Untitled
by blainewhalebler
Summary: Sebastian/Seblaine angst. "Your chest would heave with pride if I were spoken of  'Till tonight I never knew the difference between comfort and love."


**AN**: I've had this written since my plane ride home from Mexico and I just typed it and added more meat to it but.. I haven't written coherent fic like this ever. I mean, I was a 12 year old girl once and attempted but this is actually coherent and well.

Listen to **Bound to Happen by the Spill Canvas**, it was what I listened to the whole time I wrote this and helps make sense.

You can also find me on tumblr! I'm **merryfuckingcrissmas** and there's a link on my profile.

**!TRIGGER WARNING FOR A FORM OF SELF HARM!**

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><p>Sebastian groaned as he woke up. His head was pounding, mouth dry and he could barely see a thing. His head snapped to the side as he felt the bed shift. He almost wept at the sigh of the man beside him, <em>finally he had won<em>; but as Sebastian rubbed his bleary eyes to clear his vision that was when he noticed the differenced between the fantasy man he had thought to be in his bed and the reality. This reality was smaller, stockier but not enough muscle in the places he had committed to memory. His hair was nowhere near as curly and his face was much too cherubic. But those eyes, as soon as his eyes had opened, Sebastian had to physically force himself not to cry out in distaste. They were pure solid green; no subtle changes of color or any chance of them being hazel; a solid green that he could wax poetically about but green wasn't his favorite color and _fuck_, why did he have to go and do this all over again? _This was it, _he_ was it._ The one to be the end all of this stupid fucking game that he was playing.

Sebastian failed this battle every night. He'd come home from work and get so damn drunk at the bar down the street that he could barely remember what basic math was; all so that he could ease the painful ache inside him, all so he could see those honey-hazel eyes that taunted him. He just wanted for them to stare back at him in adoration just once more and _shit, he couldn't even breathe, he was so drunk_. Once more, looking at him as if he was made of everything good in the world and Sebastian would never ask for anything more than that, _please_.

The man next to him yawned, knocked him out of his reverie and gave him a swift kick to the ass. He was home with another stranger in his bed, once again. At Dalton, it was fun to run around and sleep with everyone he could; fuck, it had been his life goal but now it was just so pathetic. Sebastian got up from his bed and hastened to the bathroom, the walls turned and the floor felt like it was going to swap places with the ceiling. He hurried to the toilet and let last night's drunken mess spill out from him. Sebastian was so desperate it was _sickening._ But the drive to find Blaine was just enough to make him not care about it anymore.

Sebastian just wanted Blaine to come back, come back and tell him that everything was going to be okay. To rub his back and he threw up all the alcohol, get him seltzer water and chastise him for getting so drunk in the first place. But the hangover didn't matter because Blaine was there and that made everything _so_ okay. Sebastian wiped at his mouth and nearly laughed in happiness until the cold tile floor reminded him that he was alone in the bathroom and Blaine was never coming back. Sebastian let go then because who the fuck was he kidding? Blaine had left him when he'd caught Sebastian and their RA in bed. He'd left him and never looked back. He hadn't even come back for his things, Wes and David had. "Sorry, man. I know it's tough." And with six words, they packed Blaine's things and never uttered another word to him. Sebastian sobbed against the cold, white tile floor of his penthouse apartment in the Upper East Side because beautiful, wonderful, caring Blaine wasn't ever going to come back to him and it was high time that Sebastian moved on. Blaine sure had; Blaine had Kurt. Perfect fucking Kurt that wouldn't even think about doing the things Sebastian had done when he had Blaine. And now they were probably living in some shitty little apartment in Brooklyn but it worked because they loved each other and _fuck._ He calmed his cries and gasped in the cold, conditioned air. He drew his fist and aimed for the floor. He heard the thud and felt the pain bloom across his knuckles. The pain was beautiful, it felt so damn good and freeing for a moment that Sebastian moaned with the intensity of it; too soon was it over, the euphoria slipped into an ache, and he couldn't quite handle that reality yet so he hurt himself again. And again. And again. Until his knuckles were a bloodied mess and he could barely breathe with the reality of it all. His body shuddered with the need to breathe but he couldn't quite yet because it just made the hurt more real. Blaine was never coming back but this newfound pain could maybe be enough to fill the ache. _Maybe._


End file.
